Mr and Mrs Evans
by FoxyFaux
Summary: "Deny thy father and refuse thy name." Or in this case, your agency. Follow Sam and Mercedes as they try to navigate marriage while keeping big secrets from each other. (Samcedes as Mr. And Mrs. Smith)
1. A Solid Eight

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Glee, or Mr. and Mrs. Smith, mmkay?**

**This is my first fic. It kinda just jumped at me when i was watching the movie and was in my feelings. Let me know what you think.**

The counselor straightens his glasses and adjusts himself in his seat. Clearing his throat he asks the couple, "So why are we here today?"

Samuel opens his mouth allowing somewhat senseless words to leave him. "Well, this is more of a marriage  
check up, you see. We're like a car that just needs an oil change or something like that. Ya know? Checkin' out the engine. Pressure on the wheels. Just poppin' the hood, Doc."

"I see. Popping the hood. So how long have you been together?"

"Five ye-"

"Six years," states the unusually quiet Mercedes.

"Yeah, five or six years."

"Mhm," says the counselor as he scribbles notes onto his pad. "Next question. On a scale of one to ten how would you rate your marriage?"

"Eight," says Mercedes, with a confident tone as she shifts in her chair.

"Wait a minute," Sam starts. "On this 'scale' of yours is a one being the most miserable thing and a ten being the best or is it the oth-"

"Just answer the question instinctively, Mr. Evans."

"Okay, how about we do it together, babe," Sam says while staring at his wife.

"Eight."

"Eight," Mercedes repeats.

"Okay then. How's the sex?" The counselor asks, and a silence fills the room.

"On a scale of one to ten?"

"No. No scale."

More silence.

"Well uh-"

"It's, um-"

"Good. When we had it."

Sam and Mercedes sit stammering and mumbling at the counselor, with no end in sight, so the bespectacled man decides it's best that he change the subject before things got even more awkward.

"How did you two meet?"

Sam sat up and answered, "It was five-"

"-six."

"Five or six years ago. In Lima."

"Lima, Peru."


	2. Flashback: Tourists

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. **

**Short chapters but they'll come quickly. **

_FIVE (OR SIX) YEARS AGO_

Sam eyed the Spanish to English dictionary before him, mumbling words that he didn't know under his breath before continuing his meal. It was damned good, and Sam pondered what exactly was in it while chewing slowly.

While he studied his next bite of eggs (?), grits (?)... something, a commotion erupted near the entrance of the room he was eating in. Peruvian police barged into the large dining area of the inn and Sam stiffened underneath his white button up.

The blonde waved the man at the bar over and stuttered out a "¿Que pasa?"

"There was a heist somewhere around here. I speak English by the way," the man smirked. "They're looking for tourists who happen to be traveling alone. Kinda like _you."_

_Shit._

_Putting_ on his sunglasses, Sam ran his fingers through his hair and tried to avoid eye contact with the armed men scouring the restaurant. The door opened again but with a lot less noise surrounding the persons entrance.

And Sam forgot how to breathe.

**SM**

She needed to move faster.

Mercedes could already hear the sirens and the guns cocking, full of bullets with her name on them.

Her sandals wouldn't take her where she needed to go fast enough and if she hiked up the skirt of her white sundress to run toward the inn that she was put up in, the gun in her garter would have become visible.

So she walked. Slowly and confidently as if she weren't on the run. She opened the door of the inn's dining area that she frequented during her time in Lima and saw even more of what she was running from.

_Shit_.

She knew what the cops and armed government officials were looking for so she glanced toward the bar for an alibi.

And boy did she find it.

He had been staring at her before she even looked his way. His sunglasses had started to slip down his face and she found herself staring into the greenest eyes she had ever seen. Just his stare made her world tilt on its axis. Her eyes moved to study the rest of his face and it was beautiful. From his messy blond hair, to his jaw, to his chin, to the furrow between his brows.

But those lips.

He kept licking them as if the action was going to help him escape his current situation.

It didn't.

The police in the restaurant began moving towards them, and she assumed they were still looking for single tourists. So she acted quickly.

"¡Mi amor!" she exclaimed as she sauntered toward the man. He looked at her confused, as if to say, 'Is she talking to me?'

She answered his silent question with a nod and a smirk as she continued to walk toward him moving faster and faster as she got closer. When she was twenty feet away she was almost running and when she finally reached him, the man seemed to have caught her drift and literally caught her in his arms, spinning her around and making a big show out of his actions.

Good.

He carried her to a room where she assumed he was staying, closed the door, and set her on her feet.

_Good_.

"Thanks," giggled Mercedes.

The man, still trying to catch himself after all that spinning simply waved her acknowledgement away.

When he could finally stand up straight, he stuck out his hand with long, pale fingers attached to it and stated, "Sam."

"Mercedes," she said quietly as she reached out and shook the hand offered.

With the small contact, Mercedes felt fire. The conflagration started in her fingertips and it traveled through her body swirling around in her abdomen and rushing to the tips of her toenails. She looked back into his eyes that had been on her for as long as their hands had been touching and could immediately tell the he felt it too.

Where had this flame been when he was carrying her about?

It shocked her, but she loved the warm feeling that was taking place inside of her.

And they kept the others hand in theirs, not wanting their fire to go out quite yet.

**SM**

Sam wanted to feel her brown skin on his all the time. He was addicted. So when they found themselves at what seemed to be a block party, and there was a makeshift stage that Mercedes, or _Mercy_ (the name was reserved for him in the first thirty minutes of their meeting), just had to sing on, he reluctantly removed his hand from hers and watched her ass as she moved to the stage.

The twinkle lights above the stage made her skin glow and he felt this tightening in his chest that he had never experienced before.

The music started and she began to croon in the sweetest voice he'd ever heard. When he asked her later where she'd learned the song, she told him that it was sung on the street when she was sight seeing around Lima, and it had been stuck in her head ever since.

She was lost in the music, singing the Spanish tune expertly, as if it was written for her voice. When the song ended, she ducked her head at the thunderous applause and exited the stage quickly.

Sam looked at her, stunned, as she returned to the table. She was amazing and she had him eating out of the palm of her hand in less than twelve hours together.

She didn't get the opportunity to sit down before the musicians began to play an upbeat song.

_"Buzzing like,_  
_Neon lights,_  
_Can you feel my love?"_

"So she can sing, but can she dance?" inquired Sam as he pulled her to the dance floor.

They danced for a while. Pressed up against each other so an outsider couldn't tell where one started and the other ended. Intimate brushes of skin made the air around them thick. She would put her back to his front and grind, causing his manhood to spring to life. She did it again and again until he turned her around and brushed his lips softly against hers. Again and again until she couldn't take his teasing and crashed his lips into hers.

They moved themselves over to the table they were sitting at before, still attached at the mouth. He sat down and grabbed her thigh, making her straddle him. They kissed and kissed until he was tired of just her lips and wondered what the inside of her mouth tasted like.

Butterscotch.

And later vodka, because Sam and Mercedes ran out of breath and began pouring the liquid straight into her mouth. The drink fogged her vision but not her judgement, because when he asked her back to his room, she said yes.

When he asked her to take off her clothes, she said yes.

When he asked her to come, she said yes.

And, "YES!"

And, "Yessssssssssss."

**Song used- Neon lights by Natasha** **Bedingfield**


	3. Flashback: Beginner's Luck

**DISCLAIMER**:** I don't own Glee, or Mr and Mrs Smith. I'm broke. **

**A/N: Yeah, so fast updates will get even faster if you review because I have a low self-esteem.**

_Six Weeks Later_

The morning after Sam and Mercedes' _encounter_, Sam had brought her breakfast and a request for a round six (or seven- he was bad with numbers). After their quick morning romp, Sam Evans cuddled Mercedes Jones, and wondered just _where_ this wonderful woman lived, so he could know where he would have to restart his life. When he asked and was answered he almost fist pumped (but didn't because he was worn out), because she was also a New Yorker.

Mercedes remembered this moment as she walked with Sam, holding onto him tightly as he spoke animatedly about the most recent Spider-Man film. She gripped his torso as they moved away from the tilt-a-whirl at the carnival that was currently in town. She wasn't able to walk straight after that ride, and not because of the speed, but Sam, and those fucking fingers. (The two lovers could not and _would_ _not _keep their hands off of each other.)

She noticed that Sam had stopped talking about Peter Parker and began going on about the shooting game that was a few paces away from them. Looking down at Mercedes Sam asked,"Wanna try?" She couldn't say no because _his face. _As Sam paid the man working the stand, Mercedes considered just how lousy she would have to be at the game in order to boost her poor boyfriend's ego.

She decided she would be terrible.

And she was, practically flinging the "bullets" at targets that only she could see. Sam stood behind and gave a quick "Better luck next time" speech as she forced a pout.

Sam eagerly collected the gun from her small brown hands and lifted the gun to his face, shutting an eye and shooting almost like a pro.

_Almost. _

Mercedes picked up the gun again as Sam collected his prize and shot like the killer she was. Every target in the booth was done for as the booths bell began to chime out, signaling her perfect score.

"Beginners luck," sulked Sam, and the expressions on their faces were reversed.

"Yeah," smirked Mercedes as she watched Sam throw his small stuffed dog into the East River and held on tightly to the giant purple teddy bear that she had won for herself. "Beginner's luck."


	4. Flashback: With Friends Like These

**Just gonna leave this here. (DISCLAIMER: On first chapter) **

Noah Puckerman winced as the salty water came in contact with his olive skin. Sam had been splashing around in the olympic sized swimming pool when he'd arrived. "So, what's this big news that you interrupted my lunch for, eh?" he snarked, frowning at the blond who had just come up for air.

"Pucky! Glad to see you too!" yelled Sam in a chipper manner, which confused the hell out of Puck. "Where's Mike?"

Before puck could ask why the hell his best friend was acting high- or drunk, or both?- he was interrupted by the sound of dress shoes snapping against the tiled floor of the pool area. "Mike's right here," said the dancer. "Let's hurry this up, I've got a thing to do somewhere, right now."

"The gang's all here!" exclaimed Sam. "I'm just gonna get right down to it. I want the two of you to be my best men. For my wedding. Next month."

The two dark haired men simply stared at the blond.

"What's the matter? I though you guys would be happy for me?" questioned Sam?

More silence. And wide eyes. And dropped jaws.

"What the _fuck, _Samuel?" Mike whisper-yelled, not wanting to rub the other swimmers the wrong way.

"Yeah, my sentiments exactly. Who is this chick anyway? Is this the same chick from Peru? You've known her for like three months, Sam!" shouted a shocked Puck.

"Yeah, and I'm in love," Sam stated simply.

"How can you be in love with a woman that you've known for _three months_, Sammy?" Mike said, his voice tinged with awe.

"I don't know how, but she's it for me."

"Does she happen to know what you do for a living?" asked Puck.

"No," said Sam. "And she won't know. She's a fashion designer for God's sake. That shouldn't even be a problem."

And that was that.

**SM**

"He proposed on top of this hill. We could see the whole city and there was just a sparkle in his eye, and I just _knew_ he was the one," gushed Mercedes. She managed to leave out the fact that they fucked like rabbits on that same hill (but c'mon he had a picnic blanket laid out for them so it's _okay._)

Tina was the first to speak. "Well, I'd be honored to be a bridesmaid. I'm going to start crying now because that is like the sweetest love story ever." She wiped her hands of the clay that they were making pots with, and began to blow her nose with the same paper towel.

Quinn spoke next. "Mercy, while that may be cute and all, you've known him for like, how long?"

"Three months. He's a good man. A physical therapist and he does some artwork for ad companies in his free time."

Quinn scoffed while Tina unleashed a brand new set of tears.

"Listen, I love him and that's all that matters, so are you in, Quinn?" asked Mercedes.

"Of course, as long as he doesn't interfere with our line of work."

"He won't. He's not an idiot."

And that was that.

**Did ya miss me?**


End file.
